Reunited
by Robert DeWarren
Summary: **VTMB fic! Spoilers!** After telling Heather to leave for her own safety, Uther regrets her absence. As soon as he is able to, he finds her and brings her back to him. What new adventures await the couple?
1. Chapter 1

**_Hello everyone! I've never done a VTMB fic before, but I'm back from a friend's birthday party (She's a vampire lover, but more the Twilight kind than the ones I like) and I figured, hey, why not?_**

**_Tell me what you think!_**

**_(Also, just so you know, "Uther" is pronounced "Oother" Like King Arthur's dad)_**

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The small all-night café was mostly empty, with only a few truck drivers, drunks, and late working businessmen to fill it's booths. Of course this meant that as soon as the statuesque man walked in, his brown hair pulled into a ponytail that reached his shoulder blades and wearing a long trench coat that was pulled over a red vest, the young waitress' eyes immediately were drawn to him.

Checking in the reflection of the metal napkin holder to make sure her blonde hair fell over her left eye just so, she did her best to saunter over to the figure who she was relatively sure was a Greek god somehow come to earth. Leaning over, giving the guest an indecent amount of exposure to her cleavage, she did her best puppy dog eyes. "Can I get you anything?"

The guest looked at her as if she were a mildly interesting television program. "A cup of coffee please…" A quick glance to her name tag later, "…Iris" The waitress huffed a bit, but complied. As soon as she arrived with his drink, however, he pointed to a different waitress who was taking the order of some late-night attorney. "The girl with black spiked hair, may I ask her name?"

Iris looked to where he was pointing, although she had a fair idea of who it was already. "Don't even worry about her. Heather apparently met some dream man fell madly in love with him. Said she's waiting on him to find her. Personally I think she's making it up."

The brown haired man gave a thoughtful nod before standing up. He gave a polite "Pardon me," as he passed Iris to walk across the café. Iris knew this routine all too well. Heather had had a lot of guys ask her out in the two months she'd worked there, but she always said she was taken. Personally Iris thought she just didn't want a relationship. Or maybe she was gay. Who knows?

Still, watching men get rejected was always entertaining. Iris watched as the doomed man walked, no he didn't walk, he _strolled_, up to her friend. She had heard every corny pick up line there was, but this approach was new. He simply said "Hello Heather, how are you?"

What happened next was unbelievable. Heather turned, eyes wide with shock and her mouth hanging open. "Mas- Er, Uther? Is it really you?" At his nod she leaped into his arms, causing the fellow the smile and hug her tightly. "I've missed you so much!" These last words were muffled as the black haired girl had buried her face into the man's chest.

He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "I do apologize for taking so long to find you Heather. I instantly regretted you leaving, but there were things to be done that I didn't want you caught up in. Don't worry though, that's over now. Everything is taken care of."

Heather looked up at him and gave a watery smile as the tears trekked down her cheeks. "You mean I can come live with you again? Permanently this time?"

Uther grinned at her and nodded. "I've even got a better apartment now than that one we used to have above Trip's. My friend Nines gave it to me as a thank you gift."

The girl in his arms smiled so wide her it seemed to touch her ears. "When can we go? Will I need to bring anything? Should I- mmphffph" He last words were cut off as Uther placed his lips on hers.

"Don't worry about anything. I got all we'll ever need." With that, the two of them turned towards the door.

Heather grinned over her shoulder at Iris "I think I'm coming down with something, tell Mack that my boyfriend is taking me home to help me. Call me later, we'll talk and I'll gloat about being right!

/\/\/\/\/\

Near the end of _Pirates of the Caribbean, _Iris' phone rang, causing her to grudgingly take her eyes off of Jack Sparrow and Captain Barbossa sword fighting. Picking it up, she glanced at the caller I.D. Flipping it open, the first thing she heard was giggling.

"Hey Iris! It's Heather, just calling to rub it in your face that I was telling the truth. I _do _have a stunningly hot boyfriend." Of course it would be Heather. Why did it seem that whenever a phone rang during the best part of a movie, Heather would be the culprit?

Heaving a mighty sigh, the blond laid back onto her couch, placing the phone on the crook of her neck. "Well I have to admit, he _is _handsome. But I'll have you know after you left _I_ got a really cute guy to."

Heather snorted on the other end of the line. "Oh yeah? I bet he's just some pretty face." The good natured jibe caused Iris to laugh.

"Well I must admit, I did think that at first, but he's really smart. I am a little afraid he may be in a gang though." Iris bit thoughtfully at her bottom lip as she finished this statement. When Heather asked why, she shrugged. Realizing the stupidity of such an action while on the telephone, she continued. "I'm pretty sure when I first walked up he didn't know I was there, and he was talking on the phone."

Iris could practically _hear _Heather shrug. "What did he say that got you so worried? 'Let's go shoot up a neighborhood?'"

Iris shook her head. "No, but I think he said the name of his gang. Before he noticed me I heard him tell his friend 'I'm sorry but I have to go. There's a meeting at the chantry, and all of us are expected to attend. Yeah I know, it's going to be fun, having every L.A. Tremere in one building."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally Heather broke the silence. "Your in deep crap Iris."


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Before I get started, one thing: From my description of Uther in the last chapter, he sounds like the Ventrue PC, and while this was my original intent, I got to thinking that it would be better and easier to have a Gangrel character, so that's what I'll go with. Ill explain the clothing in this chapter..

Now, on with the story!

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Uther sat in one of the chairs around his dining room table, in his new apartment. It was much nicer than the old Camarilla-supplied one above Trip's pawnshop. This one was clean and organized, with fresh paint on the walls and good quality-if not opulent- furniture. It was three rooms- a bedroom with a king sized bed, a kitchen, and a living room. It certainly wasn't fit for royalty or any such, but it was comfortable and, as an extra bonus, almost free thanks to the apartment complex being owned by one of Isaac Abram's ghouls (Uther had to pay enough to let the owner break even.)

Across from him sat Heather, who was currently eating her way through a carton of Chinese take-out that they had grabbed on the way home from work (Uther had wanted to take her to a restaurant, but she simply wanted to get to her new home as quickly as possible.) Sighing, he asked the same thing they had been discussing for the past hour for what seemed like the thousandth time, "Are you _sure _she said Tremere?" Before she could answer, he cut her off, "Of course your sure, you've already said so. I'm just repeating myself now." Rubbing his eyelids, he slumped into his chair slightly.

Heather was used to this sort of conversation. Her master often asked questions he already knew the answer too just to help him think. Popping a piece of sweet-and-sour chicken in her mouth, she waved her fork (the chopsticks had been abandoned ages ago, and now sat forlornly on the edge of the table) vaguely, as if it would help her think. "If this guy of hers really is a Tremere, she could end up being a ghoul, and while for me ghoulification was the best thing to ever happen, I don't want her to get stuck serving some Camarilla jerk."

Uther opened one eye just enough to see her. "The only ways I could think to stop her would be to either break the Masquerade and tell her what's going on, or kill someone. And while the second option is more forthright, it is hardly pleasant, and I only break the Masquerade on very special occasions. You're lucky you hung up quickly after you slipped that she was in trouble, or we wouldn't have to worry about the Masquerade being violated now; it would already have been torn to shreds."

"Yeah, it's weird, she never commented on that again… But anyway, you wont have to break the Masquerade or kill anyone" She assured him quickly, "Just speak to the Tremere and ask him not to ghoulify her. Even if he is Camarilla, he'll respect you." At the quirk of his eyebrow, she continued "I said respect, not like."

"Fine. But I am _not _going to get all dressed up again. I don't see how those Ventrue wear that crap all the time. I felt like I was wearing three people's worth of clothes!" At that, Heather smiled and grabbed his hand comfortingly, as if protecting him from the thought of that many clothes.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was about a week after Heather's Mr. Right showed up, and since then he had shown up every night at the end of her shift to walk her home. This, of course, caused Iris to dream of meeting the perfect man herself.

Which is where Charles comes in.

He was such a handsome man, short brown hair, tall, blue eyes, with designer label clothes. He was, by all accounts, gorgeous. Of course, the whole gang thing was a big black mark.

It was the only thing she could think of from what he said, and the fact that Heather gave him suspicious looks every time she saw him. Speaking of Heather, didn't she say something that first night when they talked on the phone? It seemed like she said something negative about Charles, but she couldn't remember what… All she could recall was that she had spoke to Charles immediately when she saw him the next day and he laid all her fears to rest.

The ringing bell above the door caused her to look up. Uther strolled in ( 'Does he even know how to walk normally?') and sat down at a far table, apparently deep in thought. Odd, he never came in except to see Heather, and she was off today. The blonde walked over to his table, pulling the notepad out of her apron pocket as she went.

"Hey Uther, what can I get you?" Her sentence made the man jump, knocking over a pepper shaker.

Picking it up, he smiled at her. He hadn't re-worn that outfit that she had first seen him in since that day, rather preferring hoodies and leather jackets, but he still looked quite handsome. "Sorry, just kinda distracted. Can I have some coffee please?" Iris nodded and walked back to the small kitchen area to get another pot going (the other girl that worked this shift with her didn't seem to understand that there should be coffee going at _all times_) and turned just in time to see Charles walk into the restaurant, wearing pants and a coat that had to be Italian.

She watched as he started toward his usual seat, but turned when Uther waved at him. A look of recognition spread over his face, quickly followed by an odd combination of distaste and nervousness. Sitting down opposite of the man in the leather jacket, they began to speak in low tones.

Now, what is not commonly know is that if you stand in the right place in the kitchen, you can hear just about any conversation in the restaurant (the old woman who owned the place had it made this intentionally, to get blackmail material on people.)

So standing about halfway between one of the grills and the iced tea, she could hear the two's conversation fairly well.

"-don't see how this is any business of yours, Anarch." That was Charles speaking.

"It is my business because Heather is worried for her friend. I am simply asking you not to take any…drastic measures. Why would you want a ghoul anyway?" Wait a minute- a what? Ghoul? They couldn't mean her, could they? But who else could they be talking about?

"Who I do or do not make a ghoul is my business and mine alone. To top off the fact is that, if you haven't noticed, I am Camarilla. You may have some pull with that…_trash_ in the last round, but you do not have any with me." What was a Camarilla? Was she right about in her initial thoughts that he was in a gang? But if he was, it sounded like Uther was too.

"It would be wise for you to stop and think who you are speaking with." At that, there was a long pause in which Iris rolled that statement around in her head. It sounded like Uther was threatening him!

"Listen you Gangrel mutt, I th-" What Charles thought was lost when Uther slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You must be a special kind of stupid, to go spouting that sort of thing in the middle of a restaurant. Think! What if someone overheard you?" It took a moment, but Charles man managed to get the hand off his mouth.

"What, do you think the Kine will hear us? I don't know why I was afraid of you, you're obviously not all that clever." Standing up, Charles stalked to his usual table, throwing a strained smile at her on the way by.

Pouring a cup of coffee from the now-boiling mug, she took it to Uther, who was once again lost in thought. She cleared her throat, making him jump and look at her. "Oh, thank you."

She gave a small nod and walked toward Charles' table. Looking up at her, he gave a dazzling smile. "Would you like to see a movie with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! Back again, I suppose. Not really much to say, so, on with the show!

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Iris was, without a doubt, having the time of her life. Charles had taken her to see the newest blockbuster in the cinema, and since then they had taken a cab to Santa Monica, where they rented a two person boat from an all-night shop that catered to nocturnal beach goers.

It was arguably the best day of her life, and now they were on the doorstep to her apartment. Giving her best smile, the twisted a bit of hair around her finger. "So… do you want to- what was that?" Looking down the alley where she was certain there was a shadow only a moment ago, she fidgeted nervously.

Charles was looking to, giving the alleyway a mistrusting look as if it had previously lied to him. "I'm not sure. One second, my dear." Walking across the street and into the alleyway with his hand in his pocket, Charles began scanning the area, ignoring Iris' pleas to return.

By no means was Charles a slouch in terms of combat. He was not as skilled in hand-to-hand combat as most, nor was he particularly strong; but he did have two distinct advantages over most opponents. One, he was fast. No matter how strong an enemy was, it was irrelevant so long as they couldn't hit him. Two, he was Tremere. While his grasp over Thaumaturgy wasn't as good as, for example, Regent Strauss, but he was at least competent with it.

None of that mattered in the slightest, of course, if you're hopelessly outmatched from the beginning.

The shadow came out of it's hiding place, behind some trash cans, slashing at him with some hooked weapon attached to it's wrist. Drawing his hand from his pocket, Charles revealed his small submachine gun while simultaneously bringing his left arm up to stop the blade, he held down the trigger and sprayed the figure with bullets.

Iris' screams were sort of background noise to him at the moment, as the figure stood back up and shrugged off a full clip from the automatic weapon.

Looking down at the hook still pressing against his left arm, he noticed a vital piece of information he had previously overlooked: it wasn't attached to the shadows wrist, it was growing _out _of it's wrist.

Following the arm up to the shoulder, and then looking at the face, Charles' undead heart seemed to stop working all over again.

The creature staring at him had dark purple skin, with two sets of horns growing out of the top of it's hairless head, curving backward and down over it's scalp, while another set of bones traced it's bottom jaw line to eventually come forward and jut out like some deranged tusks.

The creature was unmistakable for what it was.

A Tzimisce.

The flesh crafter laughed as he finished straightening his back, towering half a foot of Charles' 5'9", it gave the Tremere a sadistic grin. "Look at the little Childer, playing like it's all grown up." Bringing it's other arm up faster than Charles could follow, the monster slammed it's left fist into his jaw, spinning him away and into the wall behind him. "You have no chance against someone like me!"

Raising himself onto his elbows, Charles slung one hand forward, unleashing globule of blood that thinned itself to razor sharpness. The Tzimisce, however, had been fighting the Tremere for centuries, and as such had learned to defend from their more obvious attacks.

Bringing it's right arm up, the monster took the brunt of the attack on it's bone hook. "You seem to forget that your Thaumaturgy is not all-powerful. If it does not connect with flesh, you might as well throw a knife at me for all the damage it does." Drawing it's foot back, it grinned as his heel grew a spike of bone from the bottom. Charles' eyes had just enough time to widen before the creature drove it's foot into his stomach.

Gasping from the pain as the creature withdrew it's foot and returned it to normal, he clutched his stomach, willing some of his vitae into the wound to facilitate healing. The creature only laughed again. "Do not feel bad, you had no chance to begin with. I am a prodigy of Vicissitude, while you are only mediocre at Thaumaturgy. Perhaps in a century or two you could best me but now? You have a better chance of surviving Gehenna. But don't worry, I wont kill you now. No, I just want a prize for my hard work."

Turning around and walking toward the fear stricken Iris, the monster grinned. Finally managing to lever himself onto his feet, Charles grabbed a lid from one of the overturned garbage cans, before launching lit like a discus at the back of the Tzimisce's head.

Without even looking behind himself, the monster grew a spike of bone upward from his spinal column, deflecting the attack. Grabbing the now screaming Iris by the wrist he laid the bone hook across her throat. "What do you say to your boyfriend now, dear Kine? Now that you see what he is? A coward that can't even protect those close to him."

The Tremere could feel his hate bubbling inside of him, but he knew the monster was right. He was way out of his league. He could only watch as Iris screamed for his help one last time, before the Tzimisce grabbed her waist and leapt to the fire escape of the next building.

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The knock at the door disturbed Uther from his book. Glancing up from the novel, he gestured vaguely to the door. "Heather, could you?"

Hearing her master's words, the ghoul got up from her position resting against him and walked calmly to the door, hand in pocket.

Glancing out of the eye-hole, she let out a small gasp before drawing the semi-automatic pistol from her jeans. "Master, Charles is here."

Coming up from his seat, Uther placed the book on the end table before pacing to the door. Gently moving Heather out of the way, he opened it, raising one eyebrow at his visitor. "I thought you made it rather clear during our last meeting your dislike of me."

Glaring at him through his bangs, Charles swallowed his pride. "A Tzimisce took Iris. I can't beat him alone. I need your help."


End file.
